Weekend camping at Hunting Island

No longer do I literally bite the inside of my cheeks when tent poles that should connect, don’t.

Army cots with folding wooden legs whose hinges trapped my unsuspecting fingers have been replaced with air mattresses. And even those have improved so drastically that they can automatically inflate at the push of a button.

As the crow flies, it’s a hop, skip and a jump north of Hilton Head and Fripp islands The road that goes past Port Royal and Beaufort through Lady’s and St Helena islands takes a while longer.

There are 11 campsites at the park that are devoted strictly to tents. They follow along the beach and we were on two adjoining ones.

Great grandson Taylor Pinckney was celebrating his 13th birthday, which we all agreed was most special, and this is where he wanted to be.

There are 200 campsites in all, one vacation cabin (there were others but they washed away with beach erosion), a fishing pier, boardwalk, nature trail, boat ramp, visitor’s center and a park store with that most necessary place of all, a gift shop.

That isn’t exactly true. For me, the most necessary place is the wash house nearest my tent that has three sit-upons, two sinks and showers with hot water.

Within walking distance is a light house that I will climb next time. Maybe.

We have never been there when the camp was not booked totally, and this weekend was no exception. Make your reservations early.

If anyone is interested in checking out recreational camping equipment, this is the place to come. There were some of those diesel behemoths that country singers seem to favor, normal sized travel trailers, one R-Pod made by Forest River Company, and zillions of fifth-wheelers pulled by every sort of pickup truck you can imagine.

There were golf carts and bicycles galore.

The moon was full and according to devoted fishermen, this was the time of month when fish bite, and they were out in the surf ready and waiting with their arsenal of fishing poles.

No matter how fancy or simple the camp site, one thing we all had in common was the camp fire. Every site has a fire ring and judging from the glow up and down the road, most were being put to use.

Because there is the danger of bringing in bugs that might be destructive to the trees, you are not allowed to use any fire wood except what you can find on site or buy at the camp store.

We were lucky a group of students on a break from Southern Adventist University in Tennessee had gone into the woods and brought back huge pine limbs, which they graciously shared. And which Taylor happily chopped away at with his hatchet.

It was a lovely time. Open beach in the daytime free from any sort of commercialism, and at night the glow of a camp fire on one side, full moon over head, the boom of waves crashing on shore less than 100 feet from our tents and the satisfaction of S’mores melted into chocolate delights.

You can’t ask for better than that.

I loved sharing your birthday, Taylor. Hopefully, we’ll do the same next year?